Sunday, September 20, 2015

How to prevent a carnage: Diplomacy (Volker Schlöndorff, 2014)

Diplomacy is the kind of movie you might expect to find in the film schedule of one of those
invaluable government-funded cultural organizations like the Alliance Française
or the Goethe Institut that foster international education programs, promoting tolerance,
peace and intercultural dialogue. A Franco-German co-production dedicated to
the memory of American diplomat Richard Holbrooke, also a friend and former
collaborator of the director, Volker Schlöndorff's latest is amongst other
things a celebration of humanitarianism and transnational cooperation over belligerence and blind obedience. The film ‒ whose original
title itself is cross-boundary, "Diplomatie" being both a French and
a German word ‒ is a fictionalized account of how the destruction of Paris
ordered by Hitler in 1944 was warded off thanks to intensive negotiations
conducted over the course of a single night by the Nazi-appointed military governor
of Paris Dietrich von Choltitz (played by Niels Arestrup) and the Swedish
consul-general Raoul Nordling (André Dussolier).

Having
learned about the destruction plan and firmly determined to prevent a carnage
and save Paris's cultural heritage, Nordling surreptitiously sneaks into the
general's apartment in the sumptuous Hotel Meurice in the hope that he'll
manage to persuade him to disobey Hitler's orders. Nordling knows that he's
walking on thin ice, as he's got nothing but his persuasion skills to counterpose
to the general's authority. But he also has the major advantage of dealing with
an intelligent and cultivated adversary who is likely to understand the force
of his arguments. His persuasive manners would have been of little value in the
face of one of those obtuse kapos we often encounter in WWII movies.

The story
outcome is self-evident also to those unfamiliar with the events narrated, but
the film expertly takes advantage of the paradox of suspense and manages to keep up the tension throughout. Except for some brief scenes
showing the military maneuvers occurring outside of the building, we stay in
the general's apartment for most of the running time. Schlöndorff plays with
our expectations by threatening to close negotiations at an early stage, when
von Choltitz orders his uninvited and obstinate guest to leave the room.
Anyway, we are well aware that this is not going to happen very soon: if von
Choltitz managed to drive him away, we would have no film and no Paris either. We
may be reminded of Polanski's Carnage, where the crucial
meeting the film wouldn't exist without is interrupted and then resumed two
times. A subtle visual device also helps keep the tension up. Just as Hitchcock
in Rope used a time-elapse matte painting of the New York
skyline changing from day to night, in Diplomacy the
(natural) Parisian sky slowly brightening through the apartment's windows functions
like a hourglass signaling how much time is left for Nordling to complete his
mission.

In case
you're wondering whether Diplomacy is an accurate chronicle
of the diplomatic efforts carried out during WWII to save Paris from imminent
destruction, the answer is a definite no. If von Choltitz and Nordling
certainly played a crucial role in the process, that's about where historical
accuracy ends, since not only other personalities were involved ‒ notably the
chairman of the municipal council Pierre Taittinger and many members of the
Resistance ‒ but also the role of the Nazi governor was far more ambiguous than
portrayed in the film. In fact, while von Choltitz in his 1950 autobiography Brennt
Paris? claimed to himself the merit of having spared the French
capital, a version which was also confirmed by his (perhaps not exactly super
partes) son Timo in an interview to the French television in 2004, other
theories, particularly that of former French Resistance fighter Maurice
Kriegel-Valrimont, tend to describe the general as a ruthless and zealous
officer wholly devoted to Hitler's cause, and to ascribe his final decision to merely
opportunistic considerations of political convenience and self-preservation.

A faithful
account of a still contentious historical event, anyway, is clearly not
Schlöndorff's main concern nor that of Cyril Gély, the author of the play the
film is based on. The impending annihilation of Paris is partly an excuse to
enact a sophisticated Kammerspiel with moral implications.
Actually, most of the entertainment comes from seeing which arguments and
counterarguments are brought up during a nightlong battle of wits and wills, each
party unsheathing its rhetorical sword under the pressure of an imminent
Diktat. Great emphasis is put on the huge responsibility resting on the
general's shoulders. Von Choltitz's character embodies the ancient dilemma of
whether to comply with superior orders when these are incompatible with one's
principles, a question complicated by the fact that disobedience in wartime
often puts at risk the lives of the defector's family: introduced by Hitler in
the aftermath of his failed assassination attempt in July 1944, the Sippenhaft
law established that relatives of alleged dissidents of the Third Reich were considered
as accomplices and punished accordingly.

Volker
Schlöndorff, the man behind the endlessly imaginative The Tin
Drum (1979), gives us here an overall entertaining and competently
made film. And yet, one is left with the impression that something more
powerful and thought-provoking could have been made of this material. For one
thing you may notice, as I did, a bit of a stretch in how every element
introduced at the beginning magically falls into place at just the right time, in
strict compliance with Chekhov's Gun principle. This is one of those movies
where if you happen to encounter an asthmatic character, you start counting
down the minutes until the plot point when his health problem will prove
crucial. This makes the story feel contrived at times despite Arestrup and
Dussolier's superb performances.

(*Mild
spoiler in the next section*)

I also got
the feeling that Schlöndorff has somewhat gilded the pill by refusing to explore
the scenario in which von Choltitz's family pays the consequences of his
desertion. Sure, everything turned out well for them in the end, a text assures us. But how would we regard the whole diplomatic operation if the
price to pay had been the massacre of an entire expendable family? It's beyond question
that their sacrifice would have been justified by
circumstances, although I cringe at the word. But I wish the film had explored
that possibility more explicitly, at the risk of throwing a sinister light on
the much-celebrated art of diplomacy. That being said, I recognize that it's
unfair to criticize a film for how little it meets one's expectations, and that's
why I consider this unexplored path less a flaw and more a measure of
its ambitions. As a historical drama it's a pretty enjoyable and somewhat
edifying experience.

Which
mostly explains why Diplomacy can be an ideal educational
vehicle to promote the importance of diplomacy, dialogue, mutual cooperation
and other largely shared values. Which is fine, I suppose. But if you're
looking for a film that doesn't indulge in romanticism, and is unafraid to look
at the inherent contradictions the way to peace is paved with, you might want
to look elsewhere.

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